


Five Stages of Dealing With You

by OMGallnamesaretaken



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, AU - Neville is the Boy-Who-Lived, Alternate Universe - Voldemort Wins, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Dubious Consent, Dubious Morality, M/M, Malfoy Manor, Minor Character Death, Minor Violence, Morally Ambiguous Character, Rape/Non-con Elements, Second War with Voldemort, Stockholm Syndrome, different Golden Trio, everything is ambiguous
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-05
Updated: 2016-02-21
Packaged: 2018-05-05 02:41:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5357924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OMGallnamesaretaken/pseuds/OMGallnamesaretaken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry is taken prisoner to the Malfoy Manor along with other children of the prominent members of the Order of Phoenix. However, there are worse things than losing one's freedom and Harry will find out all about them when he is singled out from other prisoners and taken to Draco Malfoy's private quarters.<br/>Then again Harry's captor is kind of in too deep himself, so maybe between the two of them they'll figure it out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Please, No

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, I feel somewhat self-conscious posting this work. Mainly because it's kind of twisted and deals with a scenario that has been on my mind for years. I don't even know if people will read it since there are so many other Drarry fics available and I'm not exactly part of the 'Drarry Community'. Still, I hope you enjoy it.  
> IMPORTANT: Before we proceed here are a few things about this AU – 1. Neville is the Boy-Who-Lived. Harry's parents, Sirius and Remus are all alive; 2. Certain things in canon are different because it was Neville and not Harry who went on most adventures. It will come into play in later chapters and I will explain it separately; 3. Harry's relationship with Draco is still that of bitter rivals, though with a few subtle differences here and there – you'll see them as we go; 4. Finally, I try to keep everyone in character but there are some differences, too: Draco here has more balls but less sanity (or rather he is more ruthless and more lost) – but in his core he's still the same git we love. Harry, on the other hand, is somewhat mellower – mostly because he grew up with loving family and is more used to relying on other people (he's still Gryffindor to the core, though :))  
> DISCLAIMER: Don't own.

They stopped the train about an hour after it left Hogsmeade. Harry and Ron exchanged worried glances but stayed put. These days, Harry found, they were useless anyhow. Neville and friends were out there somewhere doing Merlin knows what, Hermione fled to Australia with a little help from Harry’s parents and there was little two schoolboys could do against the horrors of the new world order. Of course, the work they did with the Dumbledore’s Army was good but there were so few of them – if the Death Eaters were searching the train, they could hardly be a match for them.

They heard compartment doors opening and closing along the carriage and scooted closer together.

“What the bloody hell do they want now?” muttered Ron.

Something like that happened on their way to Hogwarts in September. Hogwarts Express stopped, masked people walked in and checked every compartment, asking their names and Blood Status certificates. When Harry saw them taking muggleborn first years off the train his heart clenched. He actually managed to free two of the kids and instruct them to run before he got a Crucio from Alecto Carrow and – a second later – a stunner from Draco Malfoy that knocked him out for the rest of the ride. He never found out what happened to the children.

The door to their compartment opened and two people walked in. One was Amycus Carrow with some kind of list in his hands, another wore a white mask. Behind them in the corridor stood two men in dirty worn-out robes and, to the boys’ horror, one of them was clutching Luna Lovegood by the shoulders.

“‘Ere he is!” Carrow exclaimed marking something on his list, “Potter, step righ’ up. Give your wand to these fine gentlemen and follow ‘em out.”

“What’s going on?” asked Ron jumping from his seat and taking half a step in front of Harry as though that would protect his best friend.

“Is there any particular reason for this?” Harry gripped his wand. _Please, no_. The idea of giving it up willingly and following the snatchers to what could possibly be his death was more frightening than the thought of death itself.

“Weasley, you sit back down on your arse,” Carrow hissed. “Nothin’ ‘bout you here, is there?” He showed them the parchment in his hands that had the words ‘Retain for questioning’, several students’ names and large Ministry seal on it. “And you, Potter, don’ worry that pretty lil’ head. You jus’ come with us an’ be a good pal. As soon as that father o’ yours stops bein’ a thorn in everyone’s paw, you’ll be out an’ free to go.”

Oh. That’s what it was about. His parents work for the Order. Of course, Harry’s mother was wanted as it was for being a mudblood, so she was lying low. His father, on the other hand, and his godfather, for that matter, were never ones to hide from trouble. So the Ministry has found a way to shut them up.

Harry considered possible escape routes. There were none. Even if he and Ron somehow managed to hold off four older wizards, there were others. Alecto was probably going through the train with another search party and Snape could be somewhere around, too. Then there was the fact that they were in the middle of nowhere and it was cold outside. They were just going home for Christmas, for fuck’s sake. There likely were anti-apparition wards on the ground and taking Ron and Luna anywhere through the snow that reached their waists and under spell-fire was way too risky.

“Ron, tell everyone I’ll be okay. And take care of Hedwig.” Harry slowly took out his wand and gave it handle-first to the masked man.

 _Don’t work for anyone else, okay?_ He thought at his wand that was almost buzzing with the need to fight, to do something against this. _I’ll get you back, I promise._

Ron squeezed his shoulder and was about to say something when Carrow grabbed Harry’s elbow and pushed him out of the compartment.

“Enough already! Don’ waste my time, you cissies! Move!”

&&&

Harry had been to the Malfoy Manor once when he was six. Sirius had taken him to the Yule Party since there was some making up attempt at the Black family. He and little Draco Malfoy actually managed to play together nicely until Draco tried to take away some other girl’s doll and it all ended a horrible fight. For whatever reason Harry’s mind kept replaying the image of six year old Draco stomping his little feet now as the Manor loomed in front of him and Harry was brought here as a prisoner.

He, Luna, Susan Bones and some third year Ravenclaw boy were pushed into the grey entrance hall by the snatchers and two masked Death Eaters. Narcissa Malfoy, as pale and withdrawn as ever, appeared on the grand staircase to greet them.

“What do we do with them, Missus?” one of the snatchers asked.

It wasn’t Narcissa who answered him. One of the masked figures stepped up from behind them taking off the mask with a wave of his wand. It was Draco Malfoy.

“Your services are no longer required, gentlemen. I will be taking them to their cells.”

Narcissa came a few steps down and embraced Draco as though he had just returned from some dangerous mission. Harry grimaced slightly and looked away.

He knew Malfoy was up to something all of the last year. Ron and Hermione didn’t believe him but he just knew the git was marked. He followed him and tried to catch him in the act but in the end Malfoy had gone and done it – he let the Death Eaters into the school and killed Dumbledore. Neville said the twitchy ferret didn’t actually had the guts to use the Killing Curse, instead he petrified the Headmaster and pushed him over the railing of the Astronomy Tower. Harry didn’t see how that was any different.

Malfoy extracted himself from his mother’s arms and pointed his wand at the four prisoners.

“Over there all of you.” Following his directions they found a small door under the stairs and descended into the basement.

It was a small and stuffy place with bars separating four or five cells on either side of a short passage. Pointing his wand at their backs Malfoy instructed them to face the back wall while he fumbled with the keys to the cages.

“Lovegood, Bones, step back from the wall and come here. Potter and Belby – don’t you dare move.”

Harry heard the girls’ light steps behind him and the screeching of the metal door as it opened and closed. Malfoy fumbled with the keys a bit more opening another cell and instructed Belby to go into that one. Once the door behind the Ravenclaw closed Harry felt Malfoy’s hand on his shoulder and the tip of his wand on the back of his neck.

“Potter, you come with me,” Malfoy yanked him back and turned him around pushing him out of the cellar. As soon as they were back in the entrance hall Harry straightened his legs and dug the balls of his feet into the floor.

“Malfoy, where are you taking me?” Malfoy gave him a rather hard push and Harry almost fell to his knees. The Slytherin yanked him back up. “What the fuck?”

Malfoy tsked, “Language, Potter,” dragging him up the big staircase and sending electric sparks through his neck each time Harry struggled and stumbled. “You should be grateful, really. I’m merely providing you with more comfortable accommodations.”

Harry didn’t like that one bit but after a particularly painful zap to the neck allowed Malfoy to lead him to the end of a hallway, up another flight of stairs and along a gallery to what he supposed was another wing. In the middle of yet another hallway Malfoy pushed open a set of creamy white wooden doors with intricate carvings and they entered a spacious and elegant sitting room.

Before Harry had time to notice anything other than a white sofa and two more rooms to his left and right the doors behind him closed with a click and Malfoy flipped him around quickly. Harry’s back hit the door and a hard body pressed against his front. Malfoy and he hadn’t been that close to each other since their duel last year when Harry found the other boy crying in the bathroom. Harry couldn’t believe that he had tried to offer Malfoy help back then. After the Slytherin lashed out at him and they fought, Harry managed to disarm him and then he actually gave the blond a hug and promised him that everything would be alright. Looking back at that moment now made Harry vaguely nauseous. Malfoy told him he couldn’t be helped and ran away leaving Harry to clean up the destroyed bathroom. The Slytherin was already marked then. Already planned how to let the Death Eaters into school, too. And Harry gave him a fucking hug.

Now Malfoy was pressing him into the wall his breathing hot and heavy on Harry’s cheeks, his face flushed and his hair slightly mussed. His eyes were glistening and Harry wondered idly if perhaps Malfoy was feverish.

“I thought you’d be more comfortable up here with me,” young Death Eater breathed against his face.

Harry tried not to show it but Malfoy was setting him on edge. Why did he bring him here? He wasn’t acting normal and Harry’s brain refused to analyze the implications of his behavior. _Please, no._

The Gryffindor boy snorted, “Thanks, but no thanks. I’d rather stay with my friends in the dungeon.”

Malfoy leaned in closer, his hands digging into Harry’s shoulders, “Well, tough luck, Potter. Because I’m keeping you…”

And then there were moist lips on Harry’s moving messily and a hand was tugging at his hair harshly making him gasp. Hot wet tongue pushed inside Harry’s mouth and Malfoy pressed himself even closer moaning slightly. It was insane. Harry’s eyes were wide open and his body was frozen on the spot until his mind processed what was happening and suddenly he was moving – biting down on Malfoy’s tongue and kneeing him in the stomach.

Slytherin gasped and stumbled backwards and Harry tried to grab his wand but in the next moment it was digging into the hollow of his throat. They both panted harshly for a moment and Malfoy spat out some blood.

“I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with you but you don’t get to fucking touch me, Malfoy,” Harry snarled. He wanted to fight, lash out and injure. He felt scared and violated.

“Potter…” Malfoy’s wand dug deeper into his flesh and the blond’s face contorted angrily, “You can do nothing here, you hear me? You are powerless!” he spat out blood again. Harry must have bit him pretty hard. Good. “I hoped that you’d be able to understand it and wouldn’t be so difficult but it seems I need to teach you a lesson first,” he leaned in closer and grabbed Harry's neck, "Either you submit or I will fucking _make you_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here we go. As you can guess from the title, this story will somewhat follow Five Stages of Grieving Process. This chapter is more or less about denial. I feel a bit uncomfortable posting the work as I write it but I have it pretty much planned out, so I hope I won't let you down and just stop in the middle.  
> You can see a few changes from the canon here – namely the fact that Harry didn't use Sectumsempra on Draco in their six year. Since, Lily is still alive and well, Harry's relationship with Snape isn't quite that bitter and he is (possibly) somewhat better at Potions, too. So, he never laid hands on the Prince's book. And since his relationship with Draco is a tiny bit different, Draco didn't try to use Crucio on him either.  
> Please, please, if you have somehow stumbled across this story, let me know what you think (even if you think that it's a piece of trash). If something is unclear or if there are mistakes – please tell me.  
> To those kind souls who just generally follow my work – the next story in the Little Things verse is mostly done but I'm kind of stuck on it right now. I hope writing this fic will help my writer's block :)


	2. Quiet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should also probably note that this fic was partly inspired by this one: [In Misery](http://archiveofourown.org/works/639772) by [Amorette](http://archiveofourown.org/users/MariannaMerlo). Check that story out! The set up is somewhat too porny for my taste but the characterizations are breathtaking.  
> On with my story.

With a flick of Malfoy’s wand Harry was face down on the floor and with another one he was thrown through the doorway to his right into the next room. There was a lush king-sized bed in there and in a moment Malfoy grabbed Harry by the back of his robes and dragged him onto it. The Gryffindor managed to kick his assaulter’s chest and tried to twist out of his grip before magic binds tied his hands to the bedposts. 

Malfoy snarled and straddled him from behind pressing down on his shoulders and trying to subdue him. Harry thrashed and bucked uselessly. His legs were spread open by Malfoy’s knees and his feet were tied to the bedposts, too. With another spell his robes and the jeans he wore underneath were ripped apart hanging from his body in places. Malfoy’s hands were on his underpants pulling them down by the elastic and kneading his arse-cheeks. 

“Let me go! Let me go, you bastard!” Harry’s voice took on a high shrieking pitch but he couldn’t even be embarrassed about it. Malfoy pinched his arse harshly and tore his briefs down his thighs. 

“That’s it, Potter.” There was a rustling of fabric behind him and Harry realized that Draco was taking off his clothes. Harry thrashed harder but all it earned him was a bite on the shoulder and a slap on the bum. He could feel Malfoy’s body moving against his, his still clothed erection hard and heavy against his thigh. 

Malfoy spat on Harry’s arse crack and spread the saliva around with his thumb. It felt so wrong. Harry’s body was shivering violently, the fingers on his arse were foreign and dangerous, the spit – still mixed with blood, no doubt – made him feel unclean. Malfoy’s thumb was still moving, barely pushing inside his opening. The Slytherin spat down once again and then pushed in two fingers at the same time. 

Somehow _that_ was too much. Something just snapped and suddenly Harry’s limbs were free and Malfoy was thrown violently against the opposite wall. There was blood trickling down Harry’s thighs from the rough way the other boy’s fingers were jerked out and the Gryffindor pressed his legs together and moved higher up the bed. 

His whole body was still shaking and he didn’t even register straight away that he was hiccuping loudly and sobbing without tears. Harry only realized that when he heard Malfoy muttering something like “Potter” from the floor. 

Malfoy was suddenly up and moving and Harry flinched violently before it became clear that the blond wasn’t trying to approach him again. Out of the corner of his eye Harry saw Malfoy disappearing behind another door and in the next moment there was the sound of retching. Harry sobbed harder. 

He couldn’t seem to stop gasping for air and shivering. He thought vaguely that he should probably try to run right now but his body still felt paralyzed with fear and he felt so drained from his magical outburst. He didn’t even notice falling asleep. 

&&&

Harry didn’t know how long he was out. He guessed he must have slept through the night since he remembered waking in the dark at some point. Now he could feel weak winter sunlight through his eyelids. The bed he was in was soft and nice but Harry still didn’t feel quite comfortable. His body was aching faintly. 

Suddenly he could feel somebody’s presence in the room and that made him jump up and clutch the sheets to his body. He looked around wildly but couldn’t make out anything but faint shapes. His glasses were nowhere to be seen and his eyes felt so swollen… 

“Draco?” Female voice. Slightly muffled, probably coming from the next room. That’s right there was a sitting room and then the bedroom where Draco Malfoy tied Harry to the bed and… His breathing started accelerating and the shapes and shadows in the room tilted dangerously. 

Before Harry could work himself up into a full-scale panic attack there was a gasp of “Oh Merlin!” and a figure of a woman in his immediate line of sight. 

“Mister Potter? Mister Potter, are you alright?” soft hands covered his own that were gripping the bedsheets tightly and Harry forced himself to calm down. “Wait just a moment,” murmured the voice of Narcissa Malfoy and after a couple of beats Harry’s glasses were put back on his face. 

Harry blinked a few times as the world came into focus. His eyes still felt swollen and he could feel the skin on his forehead and thighs pulled tight with the crust of dried blood. He must have looked quite a sight because Narcissa was calling a house elf – _Dobby, a familiar name_ –ordering him to bring a bottle of pain relieving potion, some healing salve, a bowl of water and a clean cloth. 

She pushed Harry back into the bed carefully and pried off the sheets without a word. Harry’s body wanted to protest instinctively but he realized that she meant him no harm and made himself relax. At the sight of his torn clothes and cuts and bruises on his wrists and ankles Mrs. Malfoy’s breath hitched but she remained otherwise composed. She banished the remains of his clothes and silently set to work on healing him. 

Harry could see her hands trembling slightly and could guess that she was healing him for her own sake as much as for his – she must have thought that as long as she couldn’t see the damage her son inflicted, she could pretend it never happened. Still, Harry was grateful. Her gentle touches calmed him down somewhat and her care made him forget for a moment that he was a prisoner in this house. She even ordered the elves to bring him some fresh clothes and a breakfast afterwards. 

“Thank you,” Harry said as she was heading out. The hoarseness of his own voice surprised him. Narcissa paused at the door and nodded briskly before leaving the room. 

&&&

It was… weird, Harry thought on his second night at the Manor. He couldn’t exactly say that it was not what he expected from his captivity since he never even contemplated what being a… hostage of war would be like. But he certainly would never have guessed it to be like this. 

After he got dressed and chewed his breakfast mechanically in the morning he spent the day studying his surroundings and _not_ thinking about what happened the day before. Draco’s quarters consisted of a sitting room and a bedroom that he had already seen, a luxurious bathroom done in white marble, ivory and silver and a private study. The door to the study (the one on the left that he noticed when he first came in) was locked but Harry managed to peek through the keyhole and see a spacious mahogany desk and some dark bookshelves. 

Huge windows that took up the entire walls in the sitting room and the bedroom were charmed closed, too. Most likely to keep the winter chill away as opposed to keeping the prisoners in. Harry supposed he could break them from the inside by throwing something heavy in them but that would still leave him with two storeys to jump and wast expense of snow to cross. His wand was in the house somewhere but Harry had no idea where it could be. 

Narcissa had locked the door that connected the sitting room with the hallway, so for now the windows were his only escape option. Harry was reluctant to try them, though, because the sound of breaking glass was bound to attract the house elves if no-one else and he doubted he could make it out of the Malfoy garden let alone through the snowy countryside without any direction or the help of his wand. Besides, blowing up an escape attempt would mean that the security would be re-enforced and the next break out would be more difficult to conceive. 

No matter how badly it set his teeth on edge, waiting was wiser. 

So, Harry had lunch and chatted up Dobby the house elf who brought him his food. He was a weird little fellow and seemed to take some liking to the captured Potter heir. The elf said that he had heard all about Harry’s noble nature, his grace on broom and the adventures he went on in his years at Hogwarts. The Gryffindor stowed this knowledge away for future uses. 

He spent the afternoon slouching around the sitting room and reading the books he managed to find there. The night found him here – curled up on a sofa in the sitting room (he didn’t _want_ to sleep in that bed) and wondering how the others who were brought to the Manor with him were doing. He hoped they stuck together. 

&&&

He didn’t see Draco until the next night. To be honest, by the time Malfoy returned Harry already felt like he was slowly going insane. Dobby couldn’t stay and chat with him for long since the elf had other duties around the house and Mrs. Malfoy didn’t show up on his third day. Everything was horribly quiet here and Harry felt like a ghost slinking from one room to another pointlessly. So, he was almost glad to see Malfoy even though the blond made his skin crawl. 

The Slytherin stood in the doorway silently for a few moments carefully observing Harry who was once again curled up on the sofa. Probably noting the absence of injuries or maybe coming to some other internal decision. 

Slowly Malfoy came up to Harry making the Gryffindor boy sit up and tense. 

"Are you okay?" Malfoy asked and Harry snorted.

"What do you think?"

"Well, you _look_ okay," Malfoy said somewhat petulantly. Harry was surprised he didn't cross his arms on his chest and stomp his foot. 

"That's 'cause your mother came here yesterday and healed me," Harry felt satisfaction when Malfoy flinched at the mention of his mother. Good. Let him be ashamed. 

The Slytherin stared at Harry for few more moments. He looked pale – paler than usual. His eyes seemed shifty. They were roaming Harry's body, never leaving it yet never staying at any place for more than a couple of seconds.

"Come with me. You are not sleeping here," he said finally before turning away. 

For a moment Harry felt absurdly hopeful when he thought that Malfoy would return him to the basement. Then he saw the blond entering the bedroom. The Gryffindor stayed put.

There were some fumbling sounds from the other room and after a few minutes Malfoy re-emerged without his outer robe and with his shirt undone. 

"Don't make me drag you in there, Potter."

"Don't make me bash your head against the wall," retorted Harry. 

Malfoy sighed and then scowled, "I won't touch you. But you are going to sleep there."

He pointed his wand at Harry and levitated him off the sofa. At least this time he didn't knock him into the furniture. Harry wondered if he was going insane for thinking that was any better. 

“Really, Malfoy? You can’t get laid, so you resort to this? I always knew you were pathetic but this has to be a new low.” Malfoy dropped him on the bed abruptly. With another spell Harry’s limbs suddenly felt sluggish as though all strength was drained from them. He couldn’t even move his tongue without fear that his next clever insult would come out as a drunken slur. 

Malfoy finished undressing without looking at Harry. He donned a pair of pajama pants and laid next to the Gryffindor boy carefully arranging both of their bodies to his liking. Harry blinked with some effort. Despite what was said earlier, he still fully expected Malfoy to take advantage of him but the blond only slung an arm across Harry’s torso and pulled him closer. 

“Sleep, Potter,” he grumbled closing his eyes. 

Harry spent half the night contemplating his new-found occupation as Malfoy’s snuggle pillow. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your kudos and comments! They made me feel somewhat better about the story. This chapter was supposed to be about anger but in the end I think this one and the next would be a mix of anger and depression in equal proportions. Maybe not. The boys are rather resilient, you know?  
> Also here's another little change from the canon – since it was Neville who experienced most of the adventures in the second book Dobby is still a Malfoy house elf. (I love Neville but he would never have enough cunning to free our favorite nuisance)


	3. Malice

Harry woke up at dawn. The charm Malfoy had placed on him had mostly worn off and while he still felt weak and tired he could at least open and close his eyes normally. Malfoy's arm still held him firmly around the waist and Harry could see the black ink of the Dark Mark. He stared, strangely fascinated.

He remembered Malfoy from the year before - a jumpy nervous mess, afraid of his own shadow. The blond didn't seem to be faring much better this year, though he certainly was in better graces with Voldemort now. The Slytherins were tripping over themselves trying to please him and even the Carrows seemed to heed him. Harry was yet to see any sign of Lucius and from the looks of things Malfoy Junior was steadily taking over his father's duties in the Dark Lord's service.

A memory suddenly flashed in Harry's mind and his breathing hitched. _"Your pathetic friends may have landed my father in jail, Potter, but just you wait and see... I'll have you."_ Was _this_ what Malfoy meant when he had said those words? Harry turned his head slightly and found himself looking into a pair of steel grey eyes. Malfoy was awake.

"Potter..." A hand was stroking Harry’s hair softly. The Gryffindor boy tensed marginally with his muscles still feeling lax and heavy. Malfoy’s arm around his torso pulled him closer. “Look,” the blond licked his lips, “you’ll have to…” His breath fanned over Harry’s face lightly. “You’ll have to accept this. I can… I can make life easier for you if you do.” The hand in Harry's hair was moving faster now, stroking almost convulsively. “But you’ll have to either way…” Malfoy closed his eyes murmuring against Harry’s lips, “I want you so…”

Then he was on Harry, kissing him hotly. For a moment the Gryffindor just let him, gathering his inner strength. The fact that Malfoy was a complete ponce (just like Ron always said he was) and the ridiculous reasoning that Harry would have bend over because the blond wanted him would have been truly hilarious if the situation was any different. But now Malfoy was pressing up against him and his morning wood was nudging Harry’s thigh and Harry wanted to scream and cry and run away. He didn’t know how to deal with a situation like that, couldn’t stand being so powerless and having absolutely no kind of safe ground.

This time it was easier to call on his magic because now he knew he could. The moment Malfoy’s hand moved under Harry’s shirt and started caressing the skin of his stomach the blond was abruptly thrown off the bed. Harry rolled onto his back and panted harshly.

It took the Slytherin a few minutes to collect his bearings as well. When he stood up his eyes had the same cruel glint they had when he first brought Harry here.

“You think you are so clever, don’t you? Fine. Be stubborn if you want. But you are going to regret it, Potter, I promise you,” then he turned on his heel and went into the bathroom.

Harry didn’t like his parting words one bit.

&&&

Still, one week passed and nothing much happened. Harry almost allowed himself to hope. Malfoy didn't try to kiss him anymore, though he still demanded that Harry slept with him on the bed. On the third such night Harry gave up on struggling and came to bed willingly. The Death Eater still cast the paralytic charm on him, though. He said he didn't want Harry to try anything funny when he slept. The Gryffindor boy suggested moving him to the basement for such purposes.

Malfoy left early in the morning but usually returned after lunch and locked himself up in his study. Harry sometimes wondered if the Slytherin was doing his homework there and it made his heart ache. He didn’t know if he’d ever see Hogwarts again.

Harry wouldn’t admit but he liked it better when Malfoy was around. The silence of the Manor got to him terribly. He was used to being amongst loud Gryffindors at school, at home or at the Burrow. The quiet grated on his nerves something dreadful.

The food he was served three times a day was delicious, though he found it harder to swallow with every meal. He doubted that his friends in the cellar were allowed such luxuries and felt guilty each time Dobby brought him a silver tray loaded with roasted turkey, kidney pies, tea and sweets. He couldn’t stomach more than a few bites but that didn’t alleviate his guilt in the slightest.

Draco spent the mealtimes with his parents, so Harry used every opportunity to chat with Dobby. The elf was a bit batty, he decided. He had a habit of complaining to Harry about the Malfoys and then hitting himself with various heavy objects. Still, he was useful (and rather amusing, too). Harry learnt that Draco was more or less running the house now that Lucius had fallen from grace. Malfoy Senior spent his days sulking in his den on the ground floor. There were, apparently, six prisoners in the basement including Luna, Susan and Marcus. Three others were Mr. Ollivander who had disappeared several months ago, a goblin by the name Griphook and, to Harry’s dread, recently captured Justin Finch-Fletchley. The muggleborn boy was caught trying to flee the country a few days ago.

Harry also learned that Peter Pettigrew was staying in the house. The mention of the traitorous rat who used to be one his father’s best friends made his blood boil in ways none of Malfoy’s assaults ever could. Still he got some gratification imagining the regal Malfoys sharing the dining table with Wormtail. The idea of Narcissa gracefully passing the pathetic creature some salt made him snicker. Dobby found it funny, too, though he made a point to bash his head against the wall for laughing at his mistress.

&&&

One week passed and Harry almost let himself hope that Malfoy’s words were nothing but an empty threat. Almost. But something was always gnawing at him with the way how Malfoy’s eyes sometimes glinted with malice and hidden triumph when he looked at him. At the end of the week he found out the reason for those looks.

That night Malfoy stayed in his study longer than usual. In fact Harry fell asleep on the sofa before he returned. It was almost dark outside when he was woken up with a soft tap on his shoulder.

“Wakey wakey, Potty,” Malfoy murmured. “Get up and follow me.”

Harry could tell immediately that something was off. Malfoy sounded smug and almost giddy. When the dark-haired boy adjusted his glasses that slid off while he slept he could see that the Slytherin also looked somewhat shaky, almost ashen-white underneath his confident façade.

Harry slid off the sofa and Malfoy immediately seized his shoulder and dragged him off into the hallway. The Manor looked eerie in the light of his wand. Malfoy lead him back through the gallery and down the stairs only this time they descended the same staircase all the way to the ground floor instead of using the grand stairs and returning to the entrance hall.

“Where are we going?” Harry asked as Malfoy took him down another hallway.

The Slytherin was silent for a few moments and when he finally said something it wasn’t an answer to Harry’s question. “Do you know what night it is, Potter?”

He opened a heavy wooden door and they entered a small parlour. When Malfoy slowed his steps leading Harry to the set of French windows at the far end of the room, the Gryffindor figured he had his answer.

“What night is it, Malfoy?” he asked reluctantly, taking in his surroundings. Huge windows led to a cosy terrace and beyond it Harry could see a fire burning in the garden and three or four dark figures gathered around it. He thought he could hear vague rumble of voices and someone laughing in the distance.

Behind Harry the door opened and closed and turning around he realized that Malfoy had left the room. Something was very very wrong. Carefully, listening for any sounds from the door Harry tried to open the window. To his surprise the handle turned without an effort and cold winter air flooded the room. The Gryffindor looked back at the door worriedly. Was this a trap? Then he heard one of the voices from the garden and froze.

“…promised us some meat tonight, eh?”

Harry knew that voice. True, he only heard it once before and now it wasn’t exactly clear but he still recognized it.

_"That Weasley lad was delicious. I bet, their youngest would taste even better."_

Fenrir Greyback was outside the house. Harry carefully closed the window and backed away from it. Suddenly Malfoy's earlier question made sense.

There were noises outside the door and then Malfoy returned. Behind him walked a tall muscular man with long greasy hair and ragged clothes. He was dragging someone behind him.

"Hurry up!" Malfoy ordered and the man hobbled towards the windows. When he stepped closer to Harry the boy saw the person behind him.

It was Justin Finch-Fletchley. Oh, Merlin, no.

“No, Malfoy, no! Stop it!” Harry dashed to the French windows trying to stop the man’s progress, but Malfoy grabbed him from behind locking his arms around Harry’s chest and shoulders.

“Harry!” Justin called before the man pushed him out into the terrace.

Malfoy spelled the door shut and let Harry go. The Gryffindor threw himself against the glass uselessly. It didn't budge.

“That's right, Potter,” Malfoy said coming up from behind him. "It is full moon tonight."

“Stop it! Please!” Harry half turned to look into the Slytherin's eyes. The blond's expression was stone set.

“I told you you'd regret fighting me, didn't I?” he said.

He put his hands on the glass on both sides of Harry's face caging him, pushing him closer to the window. Outside the man dragged Justin to the fire. The werewolves gathered around them in a half-circle.

“Tell me,” Malfoy breathed against the back of Harry's neck, “who shall I give to them next? That cow Bones? Or maybe Looney Lovegood?”

“Don't! Please, Malfoy, don't do it! I'll do anything, I promise.”

Justin was looking around wildly. The men outside seemed to be jeering at him.

“Anything? How generous of you,” Malfoy's voice was low in his ear.

Experimentally, Harry tried to push his magic against the window. The glass didn't even shake. Malfoy, however, felt it.

“I wouldn't recommend doing anything stupid, Potter. I understand that the concept of self-preservation is lost on you but I can promise you - if you just try something funny, I'll kill each and every one of your little friends in the most... creative ways possible. Do you think Xeno Lovegood would like to hear that his daughter was ripped apart because Harry Potter was too uptight to…-“

The rest of his sentence was lost on Harry. Moonlight lit the garden and for a moment the picture of the silvery snow, red fire and dark figures was almost absurdly beautiful.

Then the transformations began. The men outside were screaming and howling, bending at inhuman angles and changing forms. Seizing an opportunity Justin broke away from the guy who was holding him and ran back to the terrace. He pulled on the door handle frantically knocking on the glass as the howls behind him grew louder. His eyes locked with Harry’s – a desperate plea.

“Draco, let him in!” Harry shouted trying to twist out of the hold that was pressing him into the window. “Please! I promise I won’t fight you again!”

This couldn’t be happening. Malfoy’s hot breath on his neck combined with the look of absolute terror on Justin’s face was making Harry sick. He could see one of the wolves getting off the ground near the fire and Malfoy was yet to do anything.

“Too late, Potter. You should have thought about that before,” the Slytherin whispered in his ear. Then, just as Harry saw something huge moving towards the windows – _towards Justin_ – Malfoy flipped him around and kissed him.

The glass vibrated slightly with the force of something smashing into it. Malfoy’s lips were invading and unrelenting pushing against Harry’s mouth hotly. The Gryffindor tried to get out of his grip, to see what happened to Justin, _to_ _breathe_ , but the other boy just pressed harder. There was a scream from the garden.

“Don’t look,” Malfoy murmured against Harry’s lips when the boy tried to turn around once more. “You can’t help him. You can help others, though,” he pulled back a bit and looked Harry in the eye, “you promised you won’t fight me.”

There was another scream from behind them and Harry felt his eyes stinging with tears. Blinking them back the boy relaxed and let Malfoy do with him as he wanted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh, it's five in the morning and I have trouble thinking let alone writing and editing. Still, I'm at the start of one hell of a week and I wanted to post this before I drown in work.  
> The 'action' scenes are a real pain to write, I don't know how people manage them. But I did my best and I hope you enjoy it :) I'll get around to edit this chapter sometime when I'm not dying from sleep deprivation. Please, leave a comment if you find some glaringly obvious mistakes that I've made (or any other things that could be done better).  
> Finally, I've decided to split this chapter in two because it was turning into a monster as I wrote it. I'll probably do the same with one of the later chapters (because that one looks like a monster even in my plan).  
> Tell me what you think and lots of love to you all :)


	4. Imperio

“I’m going back to Hogwarts tomorrow, you know?” Malfoy told him one night at the end of Harry's second week in the Manor.

They were lying on the bed kissing lazily. Or rather Malfoy was doing the kissing and Harry just lied there with his eyes half closed. Completely numb.

“Oh?” Harry asked softly, one hand coming up to stroke Malfoy's shoulder. Suddenly he didn't want to go back to the basement. Not now that Justin... And it was all Harry's fault.

The blond gave him a crooked smile, “I’ll still return every evening, though. I've already made arrangements to use the floo.” He ran his fingers down Harry's naked torso, “Too many things require my attention here.”

Harry closed his eyes and offered his lips up in invitation. Malfoy licked them slowly. The Slytherin rocked his erection against Harry's thigh before his hands inched to the waistband of Harry's sleeping pants.

Since the night of the full moon Malfoy spent a lot more time in his rooms. He committed whole afternoons to lazing around in bed teaching Harry how to touch him in all the right places or jerking both of them off. It wasn’t too bad. The blond had yet to do anything truly horrible to Harry.

Still, the Gryffindor could tell that Malfoy was getting frustrated. Harry guessed that it had something to do with his lack of response – Malfoy had always seemed to thrive on the reactions he could get from Harry. But now the dark haired boy just felt so weary, lethargic even. He couldn't master up the energy to fight Malfoy or to pretend that he liked what they did together. Mostly Harry just wanted to hide somewhere warm and safe and not deal with guilt and responsibility.

Malfoy thrust against Harry's thigh again and his hand slipped into the Gryffindor's pants. Harry was half hard from the friction and he canted his hips up lazily. His head fell to the side and his mind ventured away, to the images of shapely hips and soft round boobs. He wished he had tried this with Cho or Parvati before. Then he would have at least some normal associations with sex.

“Potter,” Malfoy hissed. “Fucking look at me.”

Harry turned his head obediently but his thoughts remained elsewhere. He knew his passivity was pissing Malfoy off but on some level it felt like it was the only way of fighting he had left anymore. So he kept the far-away look on his face and pretended that he still held something over the blond.

 _At least until he catches on and threatens you with something else_ , supplied the little voice in his head.

However, Malfoy looked almost... lost and regretful. His eyes were roaming Harry's face and he seemed to have momentarily forgotten about his hard-on. He looked so young at moments like this – when his cheeks were flushed and his mouth half open – Harry would never admit it but Malfoy was kind of attractive when his pointy features were relaxed and unguarded. It made the contrast all the more striking when he returned from his daily duties tense and pale with shaking hands and closed off expression.

“I can make things nice for you, you know?” Malfoy said a little uncertainly. “If you are nicer to me. I can let you send owls to your parents. You'd like that, wouldn't you? I can bring you homework from school...” His eyes were wide and earnest like he couldn't imagine anyone turning down such favors. “I can let you talk to your friends in the basement...”

_So, now you expect me to spread my legs like a whore for some pittance. God, Malfoy, what kind of spoilt brat are you?_

“I suppose, you'd give me my wand, too?” Harry asked coldly.

Malfoy's expression was frozen for a moment before he replied with an almost hopeful smirk, “Well, I guess if you are very good for a very long time, then yes.”

_He lies._

“Yeah, right,” Harry said closing his eyes. “You can't force someone to _like_ you, Malfoy.”

To Harry's surprise the other boy scrambled off of him and almost ran to the bathroom. The door slammed shut behind him.

There was the sound of water running and Harry called somewhat amusedly, “Always knew you were a wanker, Malfoy! Just don’t leave your spunk on the tiles – the house elves will be mortified!”

&&&

Despite what he said Malfoy didn’t come back for the next few days. Harry guessed he was still angry and decided to sleep in his dorm instead. Then again he could have gotten himself a detention on the first day at school and it ended too late for him to go home. Or maybe the teachers gave them a ton of homework in preparation for the N.E.W.T.s. The thought of Hogwarts still made Harry’s heart ache.

The Potter heir didn’t have to spend his days alone in the silent Manor, however. Apart from Dobby who became a good (if somewhat weird) friend Harry now had another regular visitor.

Just as Harry finished his lunch on the first day of the semester there was a knock on the door. It almost made him jump since nothing like that had happened before. However after a moment the door opened to reveal Narcissa Malfoy holding a compact wooden box.

“Mister Potter? Would you mind terribly if I came in?”

Somewhat dumbfounded Harry watched as she settled on the opposite side of the couch, opened her box and took out some kind of intricate embroidery and a needle. After a minute she was engrossed in her work and seemed completely at ease. Remembering that staring was impolite Harry took on an air of casualty and fetched a book about rare potion ingredients that he had found several days earlier and began to read.

Mrs. Malfoy visited him every day after that. Most of the time they would just sit together quietly - a comforting presence of another human being inside this silent house where horrible things went on unheard. And sometimes a house elf would bring them some tea and they would talk. Not about the important things, of course, but about the books Harry was reading or the weather. The truly important things were too painful to discuss. Still, the small talk exhausted itself rather quickly and sometimes they would slip.

“My son is... not a bad boy, Mister Potter,” Narcissa said on her second visit. “He just has had too much to deal with this past couple of years and he is... lost, I think.”

 _Bollocks_ , Harry wanted to say but didn't. He just nodded silently and averted his eyes.

Something about Mrs. Malfoy seemed to bring out the best in him. He always tried to be polite and proper around her. Whenever the corners of her lips would lift up in quiet approval of some thing he said or did, Harry would feel ridiculously pleased. He guessed he just missed his own mother so much.

“Draco owled today,” Mrs. Malfoy said another day. “He said he would come home for weekend.”

“Oh?” _Just great._ “Yes, he mentioned before that he would be here often during the semester.”

She smiled at Harry, “Draco actually wondered if you needed anything. Perhaps, we could install the wireless here?”

“You are too kind,” Harry murmured looking into his teacup.

&&&

Malfoy brought the wireless on Saturday. He seemed to be in high spirits humming quietly to himself as he set up the box and searched for the latest quidditch match translation. He even smiled at Harry promising to come back after lunch.

The Gryffindor was quite unnerved. He spent the hours until Malfoy's return flicking the handles on the radio and trying to wandlessly unlock the charm on the latest LongB Watch translation. He didn't have much luck but then again they usually aired much later than that.

It was around four in the afternoon when the door handle turned signaling Malfoy's arrival. Harry only had a moment to switch from the white noise to something inconspicuous. Accidentally he tuned into some propaganda channel where the anchorman was explaining the dangers posed by the mudbloods. Harry turned the radio off quickly.

Malfoy didn't even seem to notice however. He approached the dark haired boy in brisk confident strides with an air of someone on an important mission. His back was held straight and his shoulders squared. Harry noticed however, that Malfoy was clenching his fists tightly to the point that his hands seemed to shake a little.

“I want to try something,” the blond said though it sounded almost like a question.

 _How much am I going to not like it?_ Harry wanted to ask but instead he just shrugged and stood up, “Alright.”

“Come with me,” said the Slytherin walking into the bedroom. _Of course. That._

Harry followed obediently. He wondered what got Malfoy's knickers in such a twist. Did he expect Harry to be that grateful for the wireless? Surely not. Then he must have another great plan on how to make Harry do his bidding.

Malfoy's wand pointed at him gave Harry pause.

“You do realize you don't need to…-“

Harry's words were cut off with a smooth flourish of the wand and Malfoy's whispered “Imperio!”

...

It was good. He felt so light and pleasant. Everything around him was very beautiful, too. Harry was floating, swaying slightly, without a care in the world.

Something was tugging at him, telling him to come closer and Harry obeyed without a second thought. He could have laughed from the bliss coursing through him. He was smiling broadly.

Kiss. He wanted to kiss someone. And _there_ was Malfoy - pale and unsure and lovely. Harry grabbed his face with both hands and pressed their lips together. He could have moaned from the way the pleasure spiked through him at the contact. He did.

Malfoy's hands were perfect - moving wickedly over his body, pulling them closer together, caressing his hips, tangling in his hair. Harry purred in approval.

 _Say it!_ The voice in his mind whispered. _Say the words..._ Huh? For the first time Harry felt his bubble threatening to burst. He didn't know what he was supposed to say. He didn't _want_ to say it. The room turned bleaker and Malfoy's hands on him suddenly felt intruding.

But then the pressure eased and he was lost again. The voice in his head was urging him to enjoy, to feel. He wanted it, too. It was such a long time since he enjoyed something.

His hands were roaming Malfoy's body now. Tugging at the clothes, undressing him. Malfoy pulled back for a moment to take both of their trousers and pants off.

“Draco…” Harry murmured. _Say it._ No.

Malfoy was sitting on the bed, looking up at him through pale lashes, pulling Harry closer. Harry straddled his lap and kissed him again. Their erections brushed against each other and both boys moaned softly. They kissed messily sucking on each other's tongues and licking into each other's mouths for so long that Harry felt dizzy when they pulled back. It was a good feeling.

Malfoy's lips moved over to Harry's ear to suck on the lobe and whisper, “Lick your palm, Potter.” Harry did. Thoroughly. “Good boy. Now jerk us off together.”

With Malfoy's voice so low and rough it sounded like the filthiest thing Harry ever heard. He pressed their cocks together and stroked them hissing in pleasure. Malfoy was biting Harry's neck and his teeth sunk deeper with every downward stroke.

“Open your mouth, Harry,” Draco said when he was satisfied with the mark he left. Three fingers were pressed to his lips and Harry licked them and sucked them obediently feeling saliva leak from the corner of his mouth.

His hand stilled on their erections for a moment when those fingers left his mouth and travelled down and _down_. But the voice in his head was telling him to relax, telling him to take it. And it felt so good to let go, not to think, not to fight, just drown in the pleasure and the sensation of Malfoy’s fingers spreading him, working him open one by one.

 _Say it!_ Harry heard – thought, felt – just as Malfoy’s fingers stabbed his prostate and little sparks of teasing pleasure lit up behind his eyes.

“Draco, I…-” Harry would not. “Gods, it feels so good…”

“It does, doesn’t it?” Malfoy moved up the bed lying down on the pillows, “It gets even better.”

Harry would have scoffed at the notion if it wasn’t for the fog still covering his thoughts. _Say it!_ He was bewitched, wasn’t he? The thought fluttered just out of his reach.

But then Harry was lifting his hips and then pushing down and everything else disappeared in the _yes!_ and _there!_ and _so good!_ There was a vague sense of discomfort but it, too, was covered by the fog in his mind. He was doing so well, the voice told him and Harry nodded lifting himself up and going back down, gripping Malfoy's shoulders for leverage. The blond was looking at him like he was the best thing in the world, thrusting up on every Harry’s downward movement. They were moving together in perfect sync, the presence in Harry’s mind setting up the rhythm.

They moved faster and faster racing to the end, never wanting to reach it. Harry was almost jumping on Malfoy’s lap, their bodies making obscenely loud slapping sounds.

“Uh… Oh…” _Say it._ “Draco…” The pleasure was building up. They weren’t going to last. “Draco!” _Say it... Please…_ “I… love you!”

And then he was falling down, his vision exploding in white.

…

“Love you, too.”

It took Harry a few moments to realize that the fog had lifted. The aftershocks were still running through his body, shaking him slightly, but his senses were sharper now, his thoughts his own. He could feel something dribbling down his thighs – Malfoy must have lost hold of Imperius when he came. The Slytherin’s cock was softening, pillowed between his arse cheeks. Malfoy was sweaty and weak underneath him but it was a comforting feeling. Harry wanted to stay close. He burrowed his head in the crook of the blond’s neck.

The words that Draco murmured in the sweet haze after his orgasm caught up with both of them at the same time. Harry was just piecing it all together separating his own sensations from the effects of Imperio when he felt Malfoy tense.

Oh. He could almost hear the thoughts racing in the Slytherin’s head, could predict the direction they would turn to. Malfoy’s wand was somewhere close. Maybe on the bedside table? He would most likely obliviate Harry to pretend that this slip up never happened. From the frantic way the blond’s heart was beating against Harry’s ribcage he could tell that Malfoy would jump into action at the slightest provocation.

Harry didn’t want to forget. He had the strangest urge to grab onto the memory with both hands and shout “Mine!”. It was his first time. No matter how twisted it was, he deserved to remember it. Besides, it felt like they were getting somewhere. For the first time since his captivity he got a glimpse into Malfoy's motivation, his hidden desires. If Harry was obliviated, they'd be back to square one.

Harry stayed still willing Malfoy to calm down. He supposed he could do something worse. He could say something cruel, something about how he could never even like Malfoy. Even if Harry did not remember it later, the blond wouldn’t be able to forget.

But the other boy was so scared and lonely right now. His heart – fragile and vulnerable – laid bare for Harry to crush it into pieces. No matter how many horrible things the Slytherin had done, Harry couldn’t do it. He could never hurt those who were weaker than him.

Malfoy was stirring underneath him, his hand inching somewhere away. Searching for his wand.

“Please, don’t,” Harry muttered softly brushing his lips against Malfoy’s neck.

When Malfoy stopped moving, Harry let one of his hands go up and pet the Slytherin’s hair gently. He placed another small kiss on the blond’s neck.

“Potter..-“

“Hush. Let’s just go to sleep, alright?”

“Alright…”

As Harry’s eyes slipped closed, he allowed himself to hope that he would still remember everything tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you go :3 Draco is lucky Harry has this stupid big heart.  
> In case it was unclear LongB Watch is the equivalent of Potter Watch in the world where Neville is the Boy-Who-Lived. Also, as you can see Harry's ex-girlfriends here are Cho and Parvati – Ginny has a different role to play in the story.  
> Oh, and, since Harry doesn't have any personal history with the dark lord, Crouch never bothered to teach him how to resist Imperius.  
> Anyway, please, please, comment and tell me what you think. I didn't get much feedback on the previous chapter and I think it was too dark for some people. I'm sorry, guys! But this is how this story goes, really – certain nasty things have to happen.  
> Oh, almost forgot! This is my first sex scene, too, so, please, tell me what you think about it!


	5. Bargaining

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, it took forever... I worked on my other stories meanwhile. Anyway, now it's just a couple of chapters to the finish line, so there we go!  
> Special thanks to all the people who left comments – you guys keep me alive!

_Dear Dad,_

_My letter will be short and to the point. All you need to know is that I am alive and healthy. Little happens here but I'm holding up okay._

_For your information, I don't know if I'll be able to contact you again any time soon, but I'll try to. Oh, and please don't send me a reply, because it probably won’t reach me._

_You and all our other friends are always on my mind. Memories of all the times we've spent together help me go through the days. A little ray of hope in this bleak place._

_Now, how do I finish this? Okay, I hope you and the others are safe. Rely this message to all the people who worry about me._

_Your son._

&&&

Slowly but surely things were changing. By some unspoken agreement Harry and Draco never talked about the 'Imperius incident' but over the course of a few months their interactions shifted, mellowed down somewhat. 

Harry no longer felt the need to spite Malfoy at every turn. It took him a while but he came to terms with his... position. He had no reason to feel sorry for himself, really. Harry was just a prisoner of war, one of the many, and he had it easier than most. He had no right to complain. 

Still, no matter how many times he repeated that little mantra in his head, he missed his family and friends viciously. He would have thought the ache in his chest would dull down with time but somehow it only grew worse every day. With every fleeting reminder of his mother's soft smile or his father's good-hearted humor something painful twisted inside him. But he had no right to pity himself. 

He kind of felt sorry for Malfoy, though. The Slytherin was cruel and prejudiced and infinitely spoiled but at the end of the day he was just a scared boy prone to covering up his instances of vulnerability with violent outbursts. At least that's how Harry came to see him. 

Then again, Malfoy was getting better, too. He allowed himself to relax around Harry more and did, in fact, make the Gryffindor's life a lot more pleasant. (The Potter heir liked to pretend it wasn't a kind of payment for his submission.) Malfoy brought Harry homework, let him go out to the garden a few times and occasionally told him what was actually going on in the world. A few days before the Easter holidays the Slytherin even let him write a letter home. 

(It was the most heartbreaking thing Harry had ever done. He didn’t know where to start and how to finish, how to form his sentences in case the letter was intercepted, couldn’t ask any important questions since there would be no reply. He couldn’t even address his _mother_ directly since she was officially a fugitive from justice. He could only hope his parents would understand all that he wanted to say.)

All in all, things weren't too bad, though. Harry was warm and safe and strangely cared for. With Malfoy crawling into bed next to him every night and kissing him tenderly every morning he couldn't even feel lonely. Each time the Slytherin pressed into him in long hard thrusts and each time they fell apart in each other’s arms moaning and sobbing in pleasure, Harry was reminded that, no, he didn't have it bad at all. There were bigger things in play than his captivity and there were worse crooks out there than Malfoy. 

&&&

Hope is a strange thing. It gives you strength and will to go through the darkest times. Hope lets dying men hold on to their lives a little longer, puts secret smiles on faces of prisoners and allows those whose love is unrequited fancy themselves happy. 

Hope also makes you regret ever feeling it when it is crushed. 

Harry was being naïve when he thought that he and Malfoy were doing alright, that they were on the periphery of this war and, therefore, safe. War was always close, he soon discovered, lurking in every room of the Manor, breathing heavily down his neck. Ready to grind everything in its mill.

&&&

One day at the beginning of Easter holidays Neville Longbottom and his friends were captured by the snatchers and brought into the Malfoy Manor. 

It was a pretty regular day for Harry. He was in his room, reading, as carefree as one could be in his circumstances. He wasn't even particularly bothered by Malfoy's long absence. The blond had mentioned earlier that his psychotic Aunt Bella was visiting the Manor. It only made sense that Draco and Narcissa stayed away trying not to key Bellatrix in to fact that there was a prisoner hiding upstairs.

Harry wouldn't even have known that the course of the entire war was being decided just one floor below if it wasn't for Narcissa. She knocked on his door in the early evening. Harry's words of greeting got stuck in his throat as he took in her appearance. He knew Mrs. Malfoy well enough to see fear and urgency underneath her carefully composed expression and notice the way she trembled faintly. 

"Mrs. Malfoy? What's wrong?"

"Harry..." _she never called him Harry before_. "If you would please follow me..." She gave him a second to nod in acknowledgement and was out of the door with Harry scrambling to catch up. 

On their way to wherever – it took Harry a while to realize she was leading him back to the entrance hall – Narcissa explained the situation to him. Sort of. 

"Draco is about to do something incredibly stupid." _Isn't he always?_ But the way her breath hitched gave Harry pause. It was a lot like that morning when she healed his bruises and scratches. "I believe you can dissuade him, Mister Potter. Harry..."

As they descended the grand stairs Narcissa touched Harry's shoulder lightly and for a second he could see unmasked anguish in her eyes. The Gryffindor nodded once more – a silent promise. 

Mrs. Malfoy spoke once more leading Harry round the staircase and to the basement door, "My son is not a bad boy, Harry. Please, don't forget it." Then she opened the door for him and stood aside. 

Harry could hear loud echoing voices as he walked inside the cellar, but couldn't yet see anything in the dark. 

"Get away from her, you bastard!" 

"What's the matter, Thomas? Want to join in on the fun?" 

Malfoy. And Dean. As Harry's eyes adjusted he could finally take in the scene before him. It did not look very promising. 

Dean Thomas and Neville Longbottom were locked in one of the cells. On the other side of the bars stood Malfoy and he was gripping Ginny Weasley by the neck half strangling her. Malfoy's wand was pointed at her chest where he already had burned a hole in the fabric of her t-shirt. The Death Eater was poking at Ginny's breasts lazily, his eyes trained on the boys in the cell. Taunting them. Slowly making her bra dissolve. 

Harry needed to act and fast. He could try to disarm Malfoy but that was incredibly risky. One startled move from the blond and there may be a hole in Ginny’s chest. And even if Harry succeeded, he still wouldn’t be able to get the guys out of the Manor. Not right away. So, he needed to focus on diffusing the current situation first. 

"And here I thought you had some standards, Malfoy," he said in his best bored drawl causing the Slytherin to jump in alarm. "But really, a Weasley?" Harry raised an unimpressed eyebrow mentally asking forgiveness from Molly, Ron, Ginny and the rest of the red-headed family. 

"W-what are you doing here?" Malfoy's face seemed to shatter for a moment before he regained his cool. 

"Your mother escorted me here. Said you were making a fool of yourself. I can see why."

Malfoy’s grip on his wand tightened and Ginny hissed in pain. Harry spared her a quick glance. There were little scratches on her face and arms and small red burn mark on her chest but otherwise she was alright. 

"Really, Potter? You think you can goad me with that? I know what you are trying to do." Malfoy's snottiness was back in place and there was once again that malicious glint in his eyes. 

Harry leaned against the wall with as much nonchalance as he could master, "Go ahead, then. _That_ will show that you are the big man."

They stared at each other for a long moment. The other people in the basement were silent, too, waiting for the confrontation to play out. In the back of his mind Harry thought that years of playing on the same team with Ginny payed off greatly right now. Without even looking at her he knew that she was searching for a way out, ready to seize any opportunity. He hoped she could understand his game, too. 

"You must want me to let her go quite a bit, Potter," Malfoy's drawl was as annoying as ever but there was something in his eyes that told Harry to push just a bit more. "Is the Weasley bint really worth the trouble?"

Harry allowed his eyes to dance down Malfoy's body and back up to the grey eyes. He couldn't afford to look at Ginny right now. 

"Maybe I'm just jealous," he offered steeling himself for the worst self humiliation in his life, "after all, I thought you had everything you wanted with me..."

And that was it. Something in Malfoy just snapped and with a snarl he was opening the cell door and pushing Ginny in by the back of her head barely remembering to point his wand at Dean and Neville. Then he turned to Harry and pulled him closer harshly, long fingers digging desperately into Harry’s shoulders and then his scalp as Malfoy grabbed his head and stared him in the eye once again.

"Tell them, Potter… Tell your friends whose little slut you are," he glanced at the prisoners as though issuing a challenge and then back at the boy in his arms.

_God._ Harry was really going to do it, wasn't he?

Gaze set on Malfoy and his voice as steady as he could make it Harry replied, " _I am Draco’s little slut._ "

And then the Slytherin kissed him with such overwhelming passion that Harry could almost drown out the heavy shame weighing on him. The dark-haired boy didn’t have much time to dwell on it, though. The moment Malfoy pressed him into the dungeon wall they both nearly toppled over with a sudden wave of power hitting them. From the groans coming from around the cellar Harry guessed that the prisoners felt it, too. Draco was hissing in pain, ripping up his shirt sleeve. When Harry saw red and angry Dark Mark on the pale forearm, he knew exactly what was going on. 

The Dark Lord has arrived to the Malfoy Manor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Think Harry's letter sounds kind of strange? He actually managed to include a little secret message inside. Go ahead and decode it. I've made it fairly simple since it doesn't matter much story-wise. The letter and the fact that there's a secret inside just show Harry's mindset at this point – he's a survivor in the making who would always find ways to deal with difficult situations.
> 
> Please, tell me what you think. (If you think the story is a piece of trash, don't hesitate to say so. Though it would be much appreciated if you actually explain why you find it so bad).


	6. The Helpless and the Hopeless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My god, was this chapter an a-hole to write. I hit the writer's block so many times, I damaged my brain. %D  
> Anyways, sorry for the delay, guys! No matter how hard it was to come up with the right words for this part, I still enjoyed writing it and I hope you would enjoy reading it.  
> About the secret message in the previous chapter *wink wink*: look at the first letter of each sentence ("dear dad" and "your son" do not count): Harry spelled out his whereabouts for his parents.  
> Now on with the story!

The basement was silent. The prisoners were waiting – dreading – their faces eerily illuminated by the flickering light of a single torch. Neville was clutching his head slumped against the wall of his cell. Luna pressed her face to the bars and stared at the ceiling as though she could see what was happening upstairs if she looked hard enough. Harry was locked up, too, in the cage with Marcus Belby. (The Potter heir may have imagined it but he thought he heard Malfoy whisper a quiet _sorry_ as he charmed the door closed.)

There was a voice coming from somewhere above – cold and high and terrifying. The voice wasn't loud enough for the prisoners to make out words, but it was like they could feel every hiss in their very souls. And they didn't need to hear the words to know what was being said, not truly. There was only one thing the owner of that voice wanted, only one person he obsessed about, only one death he craved. 

The door to the basement creaked open and Harry’s hands clenched around the bars of his cell. This couldn’t be the end. There had to be a way to save Neville, to give him a chance to turn this war around. Something had to be done. 

Unexpectedly the solution came in form of a short groveling man entering the basement. His wand-hand was shaking furiously and he was sniffing constantly through his pointy nose – Harry recognized him even before he stepped into the light of the torch.

"Wormtail!"

The man jumped away from his cell as though Harry was a vicious dragon trying to kill him with fire and not a barely of age wizard who used to call him 'Uncle Wormy'.

"H-Harry! D-didn't know you w-were b-back in here," he stammered out in his best imitation of geniality. "B-but you'll be free s-soon enough n-now. S-say h-hello to your p-parents, will you?" He then proceeded to order Neville, Ginny and Dean to step back from the bars so that he could escort Neville out. 

Harry had to time it very carefully. The moment Wormtail opened the cell and grabbed Neville's elbow Harry shouted harshly, "Let them go, you piece of crap!" 

It wasn't much but it did the trick. Wormtail jolted turning to look at Harry and dragging Neville with him. Ginny and Dean used that moment to charge at Pettigrew from behind and push him out of their cell. It was hard to make sense of the ensuing struggle – all flailing limbs and half-strangled noises in the dark. But Harry did see the moment when Wormtail pointed his wand at the trio and reacted immediately. 

The Potter heir grabbed Pettigrew's shoulders from behind (the rat managed to turn his back to Harry's cell in the fight) and hissed into his ear venomously, "Really, Wormtail? You are going to send them to die? Neville is the only hope for people like my mother, for people like me." The man whimpered incoherently and Harry went on, "You owe me your life, remember? Think on that before you kill my friends."

For a moment there was nothing but Wormtail's quiet whimpers and then suddenly the man was choking, thrashing violently as though trying to get away from something. His back was pressed against the bars and Harry could see his muscles twitching even through the robes. A couple of long minutes later he slid down to the floor at the feet of the shocked teenagers. His own silver hand was still squeezing his throat even though the rest of his body wasn't moving anymore. 

"Whoa," Dean said looking down. "Did he..?"

"What a terrible way to go," murmured Neville. 

“You need to run,” said Harry and just like that the spell was lifted – they could once again hear the voices from upstairs and feel the silent threat in every passing second. It has taken them way too long to break free. Someone was bound to come check on them any second now. 

"Alohomora," Dean pointed Wormtail's wand at the door of Harry's cell. Nothing happened. “Alohomora!”

The lock clinked weakly but didn’t budge. _What the..?_

“Just go…” Harry swallowed. “His wand is probably good for nothing anyways.”

Neville looked back and forth between the basement door and the cells. Somewhere from the darkness Luna's voice chimed, "Go, Neville. We'll manage." 

And then the trio was out before they had a chance to exchange any more clumsy half-formed words. Pointless words like _please, be safe_ , and _I'm sorry_ , and _will I ever see you again?_

Harry slumped against the bars. He felt so tired all of a sudden. He did his best. He hoped it would be enough. Wormtail's dead eyes stared off into the distance. It was a good thing (kind of) he wasn’t looking at Harry. The boy wondered  idly if he had somehow managed to kill his father’s former friend. 

In the next moment they heard loud voices from upstairs and the prisoners jerked as one ready to do something, anything even though there was nothing they _could_ do. Harry heard Draco and Bellatrix hurling curses and could feel goosebumps rising on his skin as a current of another, more powerful magic crashed over the manor. Ginny cried out in pain and Harry clutched the bars so hard his hands hurt. 

_Please, please, please… Don’t let it end like this. Please. Not after everything._

Dean was firing stunners and Harry hoped that Wormtail’s wand would do at least something. He heard Draco crying Crucio and his chest constricted painfully. He hadn’t even thought what would happen to Malfoy if Neville and the others escaped. In the next moment, however, he felt ashamed for worrying about the Death Eater, because Dean was screaming in pain from the Cruciatus. 

In all those months that Harry spent trapped in the Manor he had never felt quite as helpless as he did then – locked in a cell and forced to listen to his friends fight for their lives. At least back in the Malfoy's bedroom he could pretend that something he did and said made any difference. Now the Gryffindor wanted to scream and hit his head against the wall in frustration but didn't dare to make a tiniest sound, afraid he would miss something happening upstairs. 

There were more voices and crashing sounds and then..–

"NO! GINNY! NO!" Neville screamed. There was such anguish in his voice that Harry kind of knew what happened without seeing anything. He squeezed his eyes shut, refusing to believe the despair crushing his heart. 

"NO! Gin..–" Dean's voice cut off abruptly and Harry shook his head. _No. Just no._

Everything was kind of a blur after that. There were more noises and hisses and screams but Harry couldn't quite make sense of it all. He vaguely remembered tasting blood because he was biting his lip too hard and Marcus shaking him, asking if he was alright. 

Of course, he wasn't. Nothing would ever be alright now. 

&&&

Harry didn’t know how long he was in the basement. It felt like he was there the whole night but logically he knew it wasn’t that long. It was impossible to tell, though. No sunlight reached the prisoners to indicate the passage of time.

All he knew was that sometime later Malfoy staggered into the cellar. He seemed pale and shaken and there was a haunted look in his eyes. 

 

It wasn't enough to muster up any sympathy for him. 

"Potter?" Malfoy whispered from the basement door squinting at the cells. He seemed almost fearful as he descended the steps and gripped the prison bars for support waiting for his eyes to adjust. 

"Potter?" the blond repeated uncertainly when he saw Wormtail's body. For a minute he just stared at it as though hypnotized and then his frantic eyes turned to Harry's cell. 

"He strangled himself, Malfoy. Or rather, Voldemort's magic made him strangle himself," said Harry flatly. He figured Malfoy looked about ready to shit his pants because he thought Harry had killed a loyal Death Eater. 

But Draco seemed to melt in relief when he saw Harry. "Potter!" he sounded happy, too. His hands were shaking only slightly when he opened the cage and dragged the dark haired boy out. 

 _Back to the bedroom, then?_ The thought made Harry feel unclean. He had given in so easily before. Draco threatening his friends seemed ridiculous now. Here Harry was, being a perfect Death Eater whore, and his friends were still being hunted down and killed. When Malfoy tried to kiss him, the Gryffindor pushed him away harshly. 

"Potter?" There was something akin to hurt in the blond's expression. Honestly. 

"What happened to them, Malfoy? To Neville, Ginny and Dean?" Harry's voice was only slightly shaking, so he ignored it.

Draco looked confused now. "What does it matter?" His hands stroked Harry's shoulders and neck tenderly. "It doesn't matter. We are safe."

"Doesn't matter?" Harry wanted to grab the Slytherin's head and shake some sense into him. "They were my friends, Malfoy. And," he swallowed to stop his voice from breaking, "they were the only ones who was making any difference in this war."

Malfoy looked around the dungeon as though just remembering their surroundings. He tugged Harry away from the cells. "Come on, Potter. I know you are upset but this isn't the best place for this conversation."

"Upset? Don't you understand anything?" Harry's voice bordered on hysterical. "You don't, do you?" He felt so tired. So hopeless. "Just... leave me here, Malfoy. With my friends." What's left of them, anyway. "I've had about enough of you." 

Whatever vulnerability the Slytherin might have shown before was gone now. He narrowed his eyes and his expression hardened. 

"Is that so, Potter? Could have fooled me. What, with your performance earlier and all..." _I did fool you_ , Harry thought but it didn't make him feel like he held anything over the blond. "Is that how you go about your life? Spreading your legs when you want to get something?"

Harry flinched. Malfoy's words hit a little too close to home. Still, he refused to let the blond get to him like that.

"It isn't really about what I want, is it?" he replied staring Malfoy down. "Oh, no, that is all you. You think I give a flying fuck about the god damn wireless? Or going out for walks in your fucking garden? I don't _want_ it, Malfoy. And even if I did, do you think it would make you less of a rapist?" Harry was shouting now, not really aware of his surroundings. 

Malfoy grabbed his shoulders and shoved him against the prison bars behind him. One of the blond's legs pressed between Harry's thighs roughly almost lifting him up. Malfoy’s body was pushing onto his and the Gryffindor felt as though all air was knocked out of his lungs. Oddly, Harry thought of how they were in a similar position on his first day here. 

"Well, then, Potter," the Slytherin breathed in his ear. "Tell me what is it that you _really_ want. And then spread your legs like a good little bitch.” He thrust his hips up suggestively. “Come on, tell me your price, Potter. I may even pay you a little extra if you make it worth my time.”

“Stop it, Malfoy! Get away from him!” Marcus Belby cried. Somewhere in the back of his head Harry felt kind of proud that the younger boy had mustered up the courage to try to protect others. But it didn’t matter right now.

Something about Malfoy’s expression just told Harry that the blond meant what he said, that he would really give Harry whatever he asked for. There was something raw and naked about his face and underneath his crude words it felt like he was saying _goodbye_.

“I…”Could he really? Harry’s head was spinning, there wasn’t enough air in the basement. Malfoy must have breathed it all. “I want..–“ _to be free_. “I want..–“ _to go home, my friends to be safe, the war to end. I want you to stop_ looking _at me like that – like I’m holding your bleeding heart in my hand and am slowly digging my fingers into it._ “I… God damn you, Malfoy…” 

Harry couldn’t say it. He could not. The things he wished for… – Malfoy couldn’t give him. Not truly. The war, his stay here, at the manor, the things he witnessed and the things he did – they changed him. He couldn’t just go back to the way things were before, no matter how much he liked to imagine it. He couldn’t go home to his parents without carrying the weight of it all with him. He couldn’t protect his friends even if he could get Malfoy to let them go. He couldn’t just break Malfoy into pieces and walk away. Not after seeing him so open and scared and vulnerable. He couldn’t just forget it all.

_He could never be free._

“God damn you,” Harry murmured burrowing his head in Malfoy’s shoulder. 

Slowly Draco’s grip on him eased and turned into an embrace as he pulled the dark-haired boy closer and wrapped his arms around him. Harry was shaking and for the first time since he was a child he wanted to cry. He felt that he could let himself do it, too. Fall apart in Malfoy’s arms and trust the other boy to piece him back together. 

“You are a murderer,” Harry murmured into the blond’s neck softly, to try and bring himself back to reality more than anything. “You torture people and do god knows what else for that monster you serve…”

“I do it, so I can keep you,” Malfoy replied just as quietly holding him closer.

His words didn’t make Harry feel better but still he allowed the blond to take his hand and lead him away.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I said that this chapter would be the last one but I couldn't just wrap things up immediately after all the stuff that happened here. So, there would be one more part – but it would be the last one, I promise!  
> Please, tell me what you think about the chapter/the story as a whole. Your reviews and comments help me more than I can possibly say. You guys are wonderful (and you look lovely *wink*)  
> Now, one last thing – since my author's notes tend to become very long and I still feel the need to ramble to you about one thing or another I've decided to start a [blog](http://omgallnamesaretaken.tumblr.com). There I will post updates on how my writing is going and random things that I want to share. You can also send me questions and prompts for fics – can't promise to fulfill them all, but maybe they will give me new ideas and inspiration for writing.


	7. Carry On

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god! First of all, I'm so sorry it took me so long to finish this story – I didn't plan the ending all that well and I had to - literally - rewrite the whole chapter several times until I was satisfied with the results. On top of that I suddenly got that pesky real life that demanded my attention and I also started kinda running out of steam for this story – so, yeah, tough times, lol. At any rate – I assume you are here for the actual fic and not for my crazy ramblings, so, once again – I'm sorry it took me so long and I hope you enjoy.

The world didn't end, no matter how much it seemed like it would. The war didn't end straight away, either, even though it wasn't a matter of _if_ Voldemort was going to win anymore. It was a matter of _when_. The country was broken, down on its knees before the Dark Lord and without the hope that Neville gave them people felt like fighting was futile. 

Some small part of Harry was secretly glad. All his Gryffindor instincts screamed at him to continue to fight no matter what but he figured the Slytherins he lived with rubbed off on him somewhat. Because in the end he wanted his family and friends to be safe more than he cared about doing the right thing and fighting for a noble cause. 

And so, life continued on, the days blending together and blurring around the edges until it was hard to remember the time when Harry didn't live in that beautiful yet eerie mansion and didn't spend his nights in the arms of Draco Malfoy. 

&&&

_4 months later_

”It's your birthday tomorrow." Draco propped himself on one elbow while his other hand caressed Harry's face leisurely, his thumb catching in the corner of the Gryffindoor's mouth. 

"Oh? I almost forgot." Harry's tongue brushed against Draco's thumb playfully. "Did you get something for me?"

The blond hummed noncommittally, too preoccupied with sucking a hickey on the side of Harry's throat, his hand now tracing the Gryffindor's ribs, stroking his hip, his fingers exploring almost obsessively, as though it was the first time he was allowed to do such a thing. He climbed over Harry, straddling one of his thighs, slowly rocking them together. 

Slyly one of Harry's hands crept up the blond's chest, fingers trailing lightly over the ticklish sides until they found a pert pink nipple and _twisted_ it. Draco tore away from his neck with a breathy gasp, pausing for a second before diving in for a long messy kiss. His fingers gripped Harry's hair roughly to angle his head up while his other hand kneaded Harry's buttocks making the boy lift his hips up. They both groaned softly as their pajama-covered groins pressed against one another's thighs. 

Draco sucked Harry's bottom lip into his mouth before pulling away. A thin glistening line of saliva stretched between their mouths and Harry flicked his tongue at it. The Gryffindor was wiggling, trying to get more friction against his hardening cock. Malfoy pinched his arse cheek to get his attention. 

"Hold on," Draco said in a low hoarse voice pinning Harry's hips to the bed. The dark haired boy whined softly. 

Lately the invisible fog that he had lived in all these months was lifting. He hadn't even realized how numb he felt until the emotions started seeping back into him. It seemed he had forgotten joy, and want, and excitement – and now they were coming back full force. Harry was almost giddy with it, he wasn't even ashamed of his own eagerness – right now he wanted to rut and squirm with all the energy of a seventeen year old. 

But Draco already pulled away and was searching for something inside his bedside table. 

"There," he said fishing out an  official-looking roll of parchment and offering it to Harry. 

 _Do it and be done with it, huh?_ the Gryffindor wanted to say since the blond's movements were so curt and jerky. But then his eyes fell on the parchment and all witty remarks got stuck in his throat.

"The Blood Status Certificate," it said in big red letters. "The following document confirms that Lily Potter (née Evans) has provided the necessary proof of her status as a half-blood and as such is deemed worthy of a wand. 

“Signed A. Yaxley, head of the dept. of Magical Law Enforcement. D. Umbridge, head of the Muggle-Born Registration Commission, Sr. Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic."

Harry had to re-read the document twice for its meaning to fully sink in. After all these months of fear and constant threat of snatchers and  Umbridge’s interrogations… his mother was free. He didn’t even care what horrible things Draco had to do for the Dark Lord to have the power to pull all those strings. 

“Thank you.”

Draco wasn’t looking at him, however. The blond was staring resolutely at the pillows, biting his lip.

"That is not..." He sighed softly. "I thought you could give it to her. Tomorrow." 

Oh… _Oh._

One of Harry's hands slid over Draco's shoulder to rest on the nape of his neck petting the soft hair there. He could feel the tension in the blond’s muscles as well as see the cautious look in his eyes – like Malfoy expected Harry to lash out and hit him or throw the parchment back into his face. 

“Thank you,” Harry said instead.

Those weren't nice gifts, not really. They were bittersweet and reminded Harry of the things he gave up and lost, of how he shouldn't have any _need_ for such presents in the first place. But then again, those were the best gifts he could have wished for, the best things Draco could have given him. 

He kissed Malfoy's lips gently trying to convey all the things that were bubbling at the corners of his mouth desperate to be said but unable to get out. Strange things like _I forgive you_ , and _You can keep me_ , and _Can we really be happy?_

At once Draco seemed to melt against him, his shoulders relaxing and his hands surging up to tangle his fingers in Harry's hair. A wretched broken sound tore out of the blond’s throat and vibrated against the other boy’s lips making them tingle pleasantly. With one fluid motion Draco flipped them, so that Harry was once again on his back beneath him, his thighs locked around Draco’s waist. Harry tilted his head and opened his mouth trying to give as good as he was getting, sucking on Draco’s tongue and moaning almost obscenely. His hands trailed over the Slytherin’s back scratching the skin lightly and rested on his arse. Harry felt strange almost delighted excitement as he squeezed the shapely arsecheeks and pressed the blond closer to his body. Draco’s hips stuttered forward convulsively, the instinct to thrust and rut taking over. 

Draco tore away with a harsh gasp, one of his hands fumbling for the bottle of lube on the bedside table, while the other kneaded and stroked Harry’s backside almost obsessively. There was a flush creeping up the blond’s cheeks and several strands of hair were sticking to his sweaty forehead. He looked so wrecked already, and Harry felt mesmerized, awed, even as some deep longing constricted his chest. 

“You are lovely,” he whispered brushing away the sticky wisps of hair. His palm moved down to caress Draco’s chest where the other boy caught it in his own bigger hand and held it trapped against his madly beating heart for a few moments. It was such a small yet powerful gesture, it made Harry want to kiss Malfoy again. And again, and again – shameless filthy kisses, all tongue and teeth – until Draco's slicked fingers were pushing right _there_ and Harry had to pull away to whimper and moan. 

"You are so, so beautiful," the blond replied once he gulped in some air. "Beautiful," he repeated, nipping at Harry's collarbone, moving up to suck and bite his throat. Tomorrow Harry would come home marked and _owned_.

But then again, it already felt like each light touch and soft kiss left burning trails on his skin, branding him for all the world to see.

Draco’s fingers were merciless – pumping in and out of him, twisting and scissoring and hitting that bundle of nerves that made Harry squeeze his eyes shut from wave after wave of teasing pleasure. 

“Please,” he whimpered when it became too much and not enough at the same time.

He could feel Malfoy smirk against his neck. 

“Oh, Potter… Who would’ve thought that I could make you beg for me with just my fingers?” his voice was strained and husky, however, betraying his unaffected façade. “Come on, _pretty_ , sing for me some more.”

With that he _stabbed_ Harry’s prostate one more time before pulling his fingers away completely and Harry, despite his cheeks burning in shame, couldn’t stop the needy whines spilling from his lips. 

“Please, please… Uh, uh, please, more…”

And then Draco was scrambling with frenzied urgency as though he was going to _die_ if he wasn’t inside Harry for another moment, and Harry was gasping for air, feeling stuffed and stretched beyond limit, and still he couldn’t get enough of it wanted it to never ever end. Draco was driving into him with long hard thrusts and Harry was clawing at his skin, trying to get him to move _faster_ and _harder_. It felt like every one of Harry’s nerve endings was being electrocuted, like his entire body thrummed with pleasure seizing up on the brink of complete abandon. _This is so fucked up_ , he thought distantly before forgetting all about it in favor of actual _fucking_. 

Draco pinned Harry's wrists down to the bedding above his head pressing them down for better leverage. His thrusts became faster and shallower as both boys raced after their release. The room filled with lewd slapping and squelching sounds of their bodies coming together again and again. Harry was shaking his face scrunched up in rapture that was taking over his entire being. When Draco bent his neck to kiss him sloppily, the head of his cock hitting him right _there_ , and _there_ , and _there_ – Harry shouted out hoarsely and came undone. 

When Harry came down from his height, Draco was peppering small kisses over his face and neck, clutching his body tightly. Slowly the Gryffindor carded his fingers through damp blond hair, hissing softly when Draco pulled out of him. He didn’t even remember when the blond came. Draco hummed contentedly as he spelled their mess away and pulled the covers over their cooling bodies. They cuddled up together the way they usually did – Draco sprawled on his back and Harry snuggled along his side with his head pillowed on the blond’s shoulder. 

 _And what did it matter, really_ , Harry thought remembering the fleeting thought he had before, _if life and love_ (–love?) _weren't supposed to feel like this?_ Draco was good, so good, and their bodies fitted together so perfectly. Harry was warm, cared for and sometimes – he let out a quiet sigh burrowing his head deeper into Draco’s scent – sometimes he even allowed himself to feel happy. So maybe this kind of life was okay, too. 

&&&

“I love you so much,” Draco whispered in his hair sometime later when he thought that Harry was already asleep. 

“I know,” Harry replied kissing his chest softly. 

 

**The End**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There it is. Gosh, I really hope you guys like it – I tried to do my best to bring you a fitting finale for the story – not too vanilla, not too depressing, somewhat smutty, but not too porny, staying in character while showing the changes and so on.  
> Please, please, tell me what you think – both what you liked and didn't like. Your comments are a great help at both inspiring me and helping me improve!  
> Also, if you want, you can contact me through my [blog](http://omgallnamesaretaken.tumblr.com). If anyone is interested, I may post there the "cut-out scenes" from this story – namely the parts from the last chapter that include kinda comical "Breakfast with the Malfoys" episode and the scene where Harry actually reunites with his family. I edited them out of the final version because it felt like they made the story lose its focus and seemed to drag it out.  
> Thanks to all of you who stayed with me through this story! Tell me what you think and lots of love to you all!


End file.
